Here There Be Dragons
by Keelywolfe
Summary: Summary: A sequel to my story 'No Turning Back'. Set about two months after the end of the series. Sokka/Zuko


Here There Be Dragons  
by Keelywolfe  
Sokka/Zuko, others

* * *

Chapter One

* * *

The path leading towards the prison in the Fire Nation capital was an arid wasteland, surrounded by heat-baked earth so hard packed that an Earthbender would have difficulty shaping it. The dull sameness made the lone figuring walking it plainly visible to the watchtower, the deep redness of his robes stark against the landscape.

Two guards manned the Watchtower, each bowing formally to the young man who walked past them. He nodded back to them, the tray in his hands preventing anything more proper and he waited patiently at the gate until the guards inside allowed him in, as they did every week.

Once a week he made this same trek, boots whispering against dusty brick as he made his way down the stairs. Far below where political prisoners were kept, Firebenders that were traitors to the nation. In the last cell, the man who had once been known as Fire Lord Ozai waited, as he did every week.

Another set of bars even within his cell that kept him back were normally a necessity for the safety of the guards against a powerful Firebender, but in Ozai's case, it was more of a reminder of the power he had once had and lost, a jibe against the man who had tried to possess the world.

The young man stopped a few feet from the bars. Fireless was not necessarily powerless and Ozai had a long reach. Carefully, he set the tray on the floor and lifted one covered plate from it, pushed it underneath the bars. The other plate he set on his own lap, curling up cross-legged on the floor as he lifted the cover.

"Ahh," Sokka sighed, "Komodo Rhino steaks. I think that's your favorite." He dug in eagerly, the meat tasty and spicy on his tongue.

There was no reply from the cell but that didn't bother him. There never was. He ate in silence for a short time until he heard a faint scrape, the sound of the cover being lifted within the cell.

"It's pretty good," Sokka confided, "Zuko hired on a new chef. Not that he had anything against the old chef but I figured it would be better if he had a guy on his team and not yours. Getting poisoned in his first month on the job would kind of suck."

No reply, the quiet sound of eating within the cell. Sokka finished his steak quickly, sighing in satisfaction as he pushed his plate aside and slouched back on his elbows.

"I was kind of surprised how good he looks in those Fire Lord robes. Really hot....hot, heh, sorry, that was a bad one," Sokka chuckled. "Hot. Anyway, I think he's doing a good job. No one has been banished or executed or anything yet."

"Yet." A single word rasped out by a voice hoarse with disuse.

Sokka sat up, grinning, "Oh, you are going to talk to me today! See, it's good to be civil. Maybe if you're nice, I'll bring you another book next time." He nodded at the small pile that was stacked untidily in one corner, cocked his head to the side as he looked at the prisoner in front of him. "You know, I don't think prison has been good for you. Kinda looking pale there. But hey, you get a little sunshine in here, don't you. Could be worse, you could be nearly blind in one eye."

"Why do you come here?" Ozai asked abruptly, looking at him disinterestedly through the tangle of his hair. His plate of half-eaten food was at his side, cooling rapidly in the faint prison chill.

Sokka chewed his lower lip, considering the question. It was the longest thing Ozai had said to him since he'd started this once weekly visit. The first time Ozai had refused to even look at him so as far as Sokka was concerned, this was a huge victory on the side of the Water Tribe.

"Why do I come here?" Sokka repeated slowly. "I guess I could give you a few reasons. Maybe I'm giving you some decent eats and conversation out of pity, or...I know! Maybe I want something from you, Zuko still hasn't managed to weasel out of you where his mom is. But...no. I don't think that's it at all." He propped one elbow on his knee, rested his chin in his hand.

"I think I come down here because I like watching you suffer, giving you a little reminder of all the things that you'll never have again." Sokka wasn't a water bender, no magic for him, but the ice in his voice was clear. "I want you to live a long, long life so I can come down here and see you behind these bars and know you're paying for what you did, everything you did." He stood slowly, dusting off his robes. "Forgiveness is for Airbenders and I'm Water Tribe."

No sound from the cell but breathing but that was all right, Sokka hadn't expected anything else. Probably wouldn't hear a word next week, either. He gathered up his dishes neatly on the tray, not bothering to ask for Ozai's. The guards would collect them the next time they did rounds.

"See you next week," Sokka called back cheerily and it didn't sound anything like a threat, nothing at all. The guards bowed to him again as he left and Sokka nodded back, making his way back to the palace before Zuko could notice he was missing.

* * *

He might have been more pissed about Zuko's complete lack of noticing whenever he vanished if Zuko hadn't been so damned busy all the time. Reshaping the world and healing its wounds took a surprising amount of time and even more surprising amount of paperwork. For a guy that was barely used to paper actually being available rather than writing on a thinly tanned piece of leather, it was staggering to Sokka that Zuko would have to sit and write until his hands were cramped and sore, his fingers spotted with ink that lingered stubbornly no matter how often he scrubbed.

Tonight was no exception, even though the sun had already dipped low by the time Sokka got back to their rooms and he couldn't quite stifle his scowl at the sight of Zuko at his desk, his own dinner sitting next to him untouched.

"You know, starving yourself isn't going to get the work done any faster," Sokka grumbled, stripping off his outer robe. All this time in the Fire Nation and he still wasn't used to covering himself in crimson and flames. Not that Zuko would have begrudged him if he'd stayed in his Water Tribe blues but until he could get something more suitable to the Fire Lord's consort made for him, it seemed better to dress up than to go around in his old, ragged clothes.

Really, if he'd known what a pain in the ass this whole consort thing was going to be, he might have just stayed on the boat.

Just thinking that made him feel guilty, he didn't mean it, not even the tiniest bit, and even though Zuko couldn't exactly hear him thinking, Sokka slid his arms around Zuko's shoulders and rested his chin on Zuko's head, holding him. It wasn't like this was all that easy for any of them. Even Katara and Toph were getting a workout, there was plenty healing and rebuilding to do.

Zuko had been working from dawn til dusk and if there was one word that Sokka had learned that he would happily bury under a rock, it would be reparations. Reparations to the Earth Kingdom, to the Water Tribes, a thousand voices clamoring with their hands held out and it wasn't that Sokka didn't understand, okay, once he would have been right in line with the rest of them.

It was only seeing it from the other side that made him realize that tossing money and land at the problem wasn't going to help. Some of the Fire Nation people had been living on those lands for generations and weren't keen on leaving the home of their fathers just because the new Fire Lord had decided they had to. And none of the people who had joined the Fire Nation Navy had done it so they could help rebuild towns for people who hated them.

Frankly, the whole deal just sucked, all the way around. But that didn't mean Zuko had to kill himself solving on these problems today.

"Come on, let's go to bed," Sokka murmured, giving Zuko a light tug. He frowned when Zuko ignored him, tugging a little harder and just when he was on the edge of getting pissed, he heard it.

That, friends, was a snore. Zuko, Fire Lord, son of Ozai the Jerk Lord, was slumped over his desk, sound asleep.

Sokka stepped back, leaning in to peer at his lover. His chin propped on both hands, the brush still in one leaving a long, inky trail against his unscarred cheek, Zuko was snoring over his papers and scrolls. Also, he was drooling, one thin line of spit trailing down his chin. It might have been funny if it hadn't meant two things.

One, Zuko had had a really long, really rotten day, and two, Sokka's odds of getting laid tonight were at an all time low. Just like that had been last night. Oh, yeah, and the night before.

It was a damned good thing that Sokka loved him because he liked his clothes to be blue, not his balls.

With a long-suffering sigh, Sokka carefully shifted Zuko into his arms, grunting a little at his weight. He didn't even stir which just proved Sokka's really-rotten-day theory, just a warm dead weight that Sokka carried to their bed, laying him down gently.

Spirits, he was still fully dressed, even his shoes and outer robes, Sokka noted with a frown. That did it, tomorrow they were going to talk. Zuko was not going to fix the world in a month and he needed to stop trying. As gently as he could, Sokka slipped off Zuko's shoes and socks, trying not to notice how strong and shapely those feet were.

He really was hard up if Zuko's feet were turning him on, hard being the important word there.

The robes were more difficult. The best he could do with those was loosen them and Sokka did the same with the trousers beneath, trying to at least get Zuko comfortable enough to sleep decently. He was so focused on his task that when two strong hands caught his own, stilling him, Sokka leapt in surprise, strangling down a shout that would have brought in half a dozen armed guards for another impromptu visual of their Fire Lord in a compromising position.

"Sokka?" Zuko asked, his voice still sleep-blurred and husky.

"You have other people coming in to undress you at night?" Sokka snorted, shifting his hands until he could twine their fingers together.

"No," Zuko murmured guilelessly, "Just you."

Oh, that voice, hot and rasping even in the daylight hours, was even better just now, Zuko sounded like _sex_, and fuck sleeping, fuck the Fire Nation, fuck it all. Sokka was getting laid tonight.

"Yeah, just me," Sokka agreed, pulling his hands free and putting them back to work on Zuko's pants. Sleepily pliant, Zuko let Sokka strip him bare, let him sweep trembling hands ove every inch of skin as he exposed it, biting at pink nipples until Zuko gasped, licking his way down Zuko's smooth, hard belly and lower, tracing the fine line of hair with his tongue.

He was already hard, his cock bumping lightly against Sokka's chin as he made his way down and it was easy, so easy, to slide down a little further and lick that hot, eager flesh, to hear Zuko choke off a sharp cry when he sucked lightly at the circumcision scar.

Sokka pulled away just long enough to say, sharply, "Don't you dare. Don't you hide from me. I want to hear you."

Leaned back in and this time Sokka sucked the head into his mouth, slid his tongue in a slippery little dance around the tip and Zuko's next cry was both earnest and loud. Sokka didn't care, didn't care if a hundred Fire Nation soldiers tromped in at hearing that, didn't care if they all got a free show. All he cared about was the slim fingers twining in his hair, about the way Zuko was writhing under him and his sweet, begging little sounds that asked for _more, please, more._

"Oh!" Zuko gasped, arching up as Sokka stroked a hand down the inside of his thigh and lower, slipped his fingers between soft cheeks and inside. Hot inside, Zuko was always so _hot_ and that was always a reminder of the fire contained within him. Fire Lord, Firebender, Sokka didn't care, he only knew he needed to be inside with that heat, right now. He pulled back, ignoring Zuko's cry of protest to fumbled at the side table, slicking his fingers quickly.

Easier to press slippery fingers back into Zuko's heat, preparing him quickly and Sokka just opened up his trousers, dimly aware that he hadn't even taken off his shirt but he didn't care, just lined up and pressed inside, Zuko's legs resting in the crooks of his arms as he leaned in heavily.

One long, slippery slide was all Sokka could manage, Zuko moving beneath him like he was a flame himself, a writhing dance of _yes, please, more_, crossing his ankles at the small of Sokka's back and pulling him in deeper.

He managed one thrust, two, forcing his eyes open to watch Zuko tip his head back into the pillows, the light spill of his dark hair against the white linens, Pretty, so pretty, even with one cheek scarred and the other streaked with ink. Zuko hated his scar, always would, but to Sokka it was almost erotic and he had to resist the urge to lean in and lick it, run his tongue over the edges of ruined skin.

It couldn't last long, the flame of want between them was almost exhausted and with a hard snap of his hips, Sokka thrust in deeply, watched as Zuko arched up and cried out, watched as he spilled out his orgasm between them in a hot, sticky rush. The feel of it against his belly, of Zuko going suddenly tight and hot, _hot_, inside tipped him over and Sokka buried his own cry into Zuko's shoulder, shuddering hard at the sweet flare of pure pleasure.

It was only afterward that he noticed he was still mostly dressed, his clothes clinging to his sweaty skin damply. Zuko was sprawled beneath him like a broken doll and whatever energy reserves he'd had left must've given themselves to the cause because he was already asleep, still flushed rosy warm.

When the throbbing in his blood finally slowed to something reasonable, Sokka managed to roll away, skinning off his clothes with some distaste and using one sleeve to feebly clean himself and Zuko off. One set of sweaty, come-sticky clothes pitched to the floor, check, and Sokka sent a brief, grateful thought to the Spirits that consort duties did not include laundry because if they did, the Royal Tailor would be getting a lot more work.

Zuko barely murmured when Sokka curled up against his side, tugging the blankets up over them both. Yet another sign that he was completely exhausted. For just a moment, Sokka leaned over him, studying his face. Golden eyes were hidden in sleep, but the lavender shadows beneath them weren't, nor was the faint hollowness of his cheeks, the lines of his exhaustion.

With a scowl, Sokka burrowed in closer, savoring the warmth of their bed. That did it, it really did. A certain lack of sex was understandable right now, but enough was enough, something needed to be done and Sokka was the one who needed to do it.

It couldn't be helped. He and Zuko were going to have to _talk_.

Mentally putting 'Talk to my stupid boyfriend' on his internal to-do list, Sokka pressed a light kiss against the chest beneath his cheek before settling in to sleep, the low throb of Zuko's heartbeat as soothing to him as a lullaby.

TBC


End file.
